Saturday, August 10, 2013

It was Saturday... match day... Cascadia Cup day. We were playing Vancouver at our home field... and yet... It wasn't what I was looking forward to the most on that day. My brother Miko was arriving to visit that evening.
My family had decided about a week before that we'd just sit in the 200 level... introduce Miko to the DBV, and let @MunchkinFunk teach him the chants in that gentle way that he does for all Noobs. I mean, I do my part, but Ryan breaks it down pretty well. Gate 3 was opening at 6 PM, and Miko wasn't landing in PDX until 5:15 PM. There was no reason to take our usual place in line culture if we weren't going to participate in the early entry anyway. It's not like Miko would have a wristband or anything. But then @thehack333 talked to me at work about meeting him there... and the wheels in my head started turning.
On Friday night my wife and I were discussing it and we had a plan. The kids wanted to go early. We could get in line and get wristbands... then I could leave to get Miko from the airport. Joselyn and the kids would square away our 108 seats and we would join them as soon as we could get back and get in. The kids could play their (now becoming traditional) pick up soccer games at Morrison and 18th, and Miko could get to experience the TA from section 108.

The morning went as planned. We arrived at about 9:30 AM and set up camp. That's right, 9:30 AM on an 8:00 PM game day (and I was wristband 297). This is the line culture that we participate in.

Some of us made trips for coffee, trips for McSomething-or-others, Pizza and beer at Hot Lips, and of course we passed the ball around. The overcast sky cleared up, the temperature began to rise, and so did my excitement as it came closer and closer to time to go get Miko...

"The Brown Tornado".

THE Miko was a friend of mine from the Army. He was finishing his short career when I was starting mine, and I bet we weren't even at Schofield Barracks together for a year. It's one of those bonds though, that once made, will never be broken. It started simply... he was old enough to buy me beer. Now no matter the level of affinity I felt toward ANYBODY who would buy me beer when I was nineteen, I didn't call each of them my "brother". He was from Los Angeles, California and I was from Los Albany, Oregon. Quite the difference in culture. I thought he was pretty crazy... he thought I was pretty crazy. It worked. We stayed in touch after he left and we've visited each other more than a handful of times in 20 years. He came to Oregon for my wedding and I went to California for his (faux) graduation. (It seems he was a credit short, so was able to walk twice... but I only made it to his first graduation party... the one where he didn't actually graduate). I have a whole series of Miko stories... including why he's called "The Brown Tornado" (hint: it may have to do with a professional wrestling trial... or maybe a gangbang he participated in...) so stay tuned to find out. He's a brother through and through and I couldn't wait to share the Timbers experience with him.
I had arranged to receive a ticket from @Stephanzy106, and as we approached the wristband allocation spot at gate 3, my man showed up. I want to thank him again for helping me out. Since I live South of Portland and don't have to deal with PDX traffic, I wasn't sure how long it would take me to get my rig from Sunset Transit Center to PDX, then get Miko and I back to Jeld-Wen Field after he arrived. I had heard that there were some issues with I-84. I left at about 3:15 on the max from downtown to STC. I was at the airport parking garage at 3:54. His flight arrived a little early and he came through the gate at 5:10 PM, and we were at Hot Lips, sharing a pitcher and having pizza, before gate 3 opened at 6 PM. It was amazing... We were in God's favor. Things were going oh so right... I knew we were going to win.
We managed to end up about five rows up in 108, toward the 107 aisle. I pointed Sunday White out to him, and told him to do whatever she says.

His comment was "her armpits are so smooth. I want to lick her armpits".

I had told him on the way... this is one of the only times I'd ask him to be a lemming, and follow all of us over the cliff. This cliff though, was a cliff that drops to soccer ecstasy. You MUST sing. You MUST use your arms and hands. You MUST pour your soul out of your mouth. Follow the Capos as they take you over the cliff. I'm kind of an anti-lemming guy, as I know he is, but this is different. At that moment, you must allow yourself to go with the masses. I pointed out the scarves during the star spangled banner. I pointed out the raised hands and forearms as we chanted "PT"-"FC". I was so proud... and so happy to be able to share something this special with my brother that I don't get to spend nearly enough time with.
You know how the story goes. He went to the bathroom and bought a round of drinks. While he was gone, Ryan Johnson scored.

When he returned.. smoke was still in the air.

It was shortly after that a VAN player scored too. So what did I want to do? I wanted to send him to the bathroom and beer run again... but no dice. It ended as a tie.

Miko pointed out that we always seem to hit the ground running, whether it's me visiting him or him coming to Oregon. Whether it's me hearing about a show on the way to the airport to pick him up (and us ending up seeing Goldfinger downtown directly from the airport), or to us hitting the Downtown bar scene immediately on his arrival. This time took the cake in my eyes. Being able to bring him from the airport directly to a Timbers game, a Cascadia match at that, was the funnest and best thing so far. I was able to introduce him to 20,000 of my closest friends, and I really appreciate how you guys accepted him in so readily. Rose City Til I Die.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

First of all, I want to say that the wristband idea was a good idea. I'm not sure if it was a recycled idea, an original, or what... but I believe that it helps.
We all know that if you want to get an early wristband, you STILL have to get there plenty of time before the wristband window opens up. Sometimes the "three hour window" (between 3 and 6 hours before kickoff) doesn't help in my "need for sleep" department but, it's doable if there's a need for me to be in a certain area of the 100s or front rows of 200's.
On opening day this season vs New York, my daughter and I were in the wristband line at 7:15 AM and word was that the wristbands would go out some time between 10:30 AM and 1:30 PM. Her brother and her had worked on their two-sticks and we needed to get to a place where people would see them. It was to be the conclusion of our little family project... so we needed to get into the heart of the Army.
I have sat in line several times before, but usually it's with an adult friend or two and involves half-hidden bottles of alcohol and a trip or two to Hot Lipps for Pizza and bathroom breaks. This was the first time getting there early with Emma and letting her get this particular game-day experience. Instead of the warmth of whiskey or fullness of beer, hot chocolate was in order and it was perfect. We were by the bus stop on the corner of Jelly Wen, sitting in our chairs, and watching the pick-up soccer game that had developed. Part of the time she was wrapped in her Timbers blanket, keeping warm while sitting there, and part of the time she was kicking the community soccer ball against the wall. We passed the ball around a bit, and had an overall good time.

Some of the time Emma was wrapped nice an cozy in her blanket

Emma was able to play with another Little Timber

Some of the time we were kicking the community ball around

The Palmerball retrieval team from thepickup footy game

One regret I have... she asked if she could join in with the pick-up footy that began, but everybody was a lot bigger than her, and I told her she should probably sit this one out... I should've let her play. But I digress. Good thing we'll have a few more of these down the road.

So back to the wristbands. As the day grew on, from breakfast time to brunch, the line began to swell. It was visible, and to be expected. In my opinion, there is a difference between a person walking up to join their partner in line, and a group of people joining the one person who drew the short straw to go get in line early. It's kind of frustrating, but again, it's not unexpected or earth shattering "stop the world I want to get off" kind of stuff. So the wristbands were handed out and I was #297 and Emma was #300.

We wasted a little bit of time, a quick stop at Quiznos on the corner, and my wife and son joined us in Portland (we live South about 45 minutes). We went to Blue Star Donuts and were able to get in on the last three platters of donuts of the day. bliss.

Alex hides under the counter at BlueStarDonuts

We visited The Fanladen and headed back to Jelly, where Emma and I sat for a little bit with my wife and son, who were able to get into line at the front of one of the main gates.

At 2:00 the wristband line was supposed to form again, but there wasn't hardly a line at all.

At 2:15 the line had begun to form.

This year, there are markers on the posts that indicate what number of wristband should be at what approximate area in the line (they may have been there last year, but I remember a different system, that worked better... more on that to come). These markers are up in the air and are wrapped around fixed posts.
We walked toward the 300 marker, but discovered that people with 700 wristbands were standing near it. People that were seated 20 yards behind us in line in the morning, that had wristbands in the 400's were standing near the edge of the building where tents had been from the night before. There was no enforcement or good will regarding wristband order that was worth a shit. People that I recognized as long time season ticket holders jumped about 200 spaces in line, and joked about it saying nothing could get them to move. Some drunk 20 somethings pushed their way in front of my little girl, their wristbands being about 40 behind us. I don't really stress too much about the 20-30 range regarding tickets, and I wasn't concerned about these guys, but then 10 of their buddies joined them. Then... a guy that was a little older than me, who was there with his wife and a daughter that was younger than mine, almost fought some of the youngsters that had pushed in front of us. It was a little bit crazy.
The problem is there is no enforcement of the number system once everybody returns to line. From what I remember last year, the 100's (200, 300, etc) were given signs to hold indicating what number they were. This made it easy for somebody when comparing numbers, to say "you're back there, behind the 300 sign"... it allowed drunk bastards to save face, and help to keep things not so confrontational. I'd like to see every 50th person with one of those signs, I think it'd make for a more respectable line, keep confrontations down, and help to make sure that people who showed up early, waited in the cold, got their wristbands, spent time downtown, and got back in line when they were supposed to don't get pushed back by inconsiderate jackwagons who don't care. We're all one big happy family, and there are plenty of seats (as was pointed out by the kids in front of us when they were nearly fighting the old guy), but disrespect and disorder are what they are.
I understand that the front office took over the organization of the wristband process, but if any of you are able to contact them and relay my request, or if you have a better solution... would you please pass it forward?
The wristband solution allows a little bit of freedom to roam around and keeps the build-up to the match from getting too far out of hand, but it still can get better. I think the numbered stick can do the trick.

Whether the wristband line ever comes to order or not, we'll still be there, just for the experience. We wouldn't be anywhere else.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

I admit it. I live vicariously through my kids… or at
least use them as an excuse to do the things that I want to do my damn
self. From mohawking my son’s hair and
spraying both of my kids’ hairdos a nice green ala Sally’s Beauty Supply, to
getting them some scarf on log time as Little Joeys. It was a simple conclusion to reach that with
a little motivation due to some corporate greed, we would be making two-sticks
together before you knew it.

I discussed the
situation with mom and the kids. We
talked about right and wrong, the money side of MLS versus the fun and games, the
difference between MLS club and supporters group, and we talked about the TA
and 107ist. We talked about what we
could do to show our support for the Timbers players, Timbers Army, and for
Cascadia.

At just about
that time, I saw a post on twitter that was from @JNyen:

“Please enjoy a
primer from @disfictional on how to make two-sticks. Soccercityusa.com/cgi-bin/yabb25 Thanks”

We had a plan.

But then… an announcement was made a short few days later
that a positive meeting was had between the supporters groups and MLS officials. The “positive” part was written by supporters
group representatives, so I had to take it into account. What if the kids spent all this time working
on “Stop Thief” signs and “Hands Off” messages, but it was somehow all resolved
by March 3rd, and come opening day, the whole concept of the signs
they worked so hard on were a moot point?
Emma is 10 and would get the idea, but Alex, at six, wouldn’t. We’d definitely be the people at the game
holding signs up for something that was outdated and already resolved. So I had the kids draw ideas that had nothing
to do with #GrandTheftCascadia, but rather just supported our team. The team that we love. We had already come up with some “STOP THIEF”
type ideas, but now they made some that we would definitely be able to
use.

After drawing out the ideas (some drawn by them, some of THEIR
ideas drawn by me), we commandeered a card table from the garage and taped the “canvas”
down. Oh wait.. I didn’t explain about
the fabric used and how we happened to have so much?

Let’s just say there was a Sumo Wrestler in our family that
went to an adults only Halloween party last October. Let’s also say that this Sumo Wrestler was
me. The Mawashi, or the diaper looking
thing that is worn, is fabric that is about 20 inches wide and about 9 yards
long. I had 40 inch wide cloth folded in
half, and 9 yards of that stuff.
White. Yes I washed it. Twice.

We followed the directions forwarded to us by @JNyen and
created by @disfictional and made the appropriate pieces. I folded the edges over to create the
pockets/sleeves for the handles to go into and worked my sewing machine
magic. No stitches in me, no stitches in
kids’ fingers or lips. All was good.

So after taping down the first piece of fabric to work on,
it was Emma’s turn first. We lightly drew
her drawing onto the fabric with a pencil, then traced it with a black
marker. Using a couple of different
styles of paint that were found in discount areas, she painted her first (OUR
first) two-stick. It was AWESOME and she
was so proud.

Alex’s was next. He’s
a little guy, and I know that he will want to hold his own sign up during the
match (I’m apologizing now), so his sign is a little bit more narrow than hers
is. Alex drew an OUTSTANDING
ambulance. He wrote the number 17 on the
jersey of the guy he drew on the stretcher, colored it a puke green/blue, and
wrote the words “NO MEANS NO!” on his drawing.
I teared up a little. It was
beautiful.

But alas, Freddy “nomeansno” Montero ran away to South or
Central America somewhere where roofies are cheap, and we are here making this
sign. I explained to Alex that he was
gone, so maybe we should change the words.
He did so, and said that he was happy that the girls in Cascadia are now
a little bit safer without Freddy Montero here to be mean to them. I love my son.

So we have our two-sticks and our family project is almost
complete. Oftentimes, when the kids are
with us, we’ll stand in 208 somewhere and sing our hearts out, and other times,
we’ll take them with us down into 107 somewhere between about C and H. Look for us down there in the first few
games. We’ll be easy to spot, waving our
family projects in the air, showing our support for the team that we love.